Page 72 of Resilience

Eight gave Geno a look that made it clear he got the humor but didn’t appreciate it. He turned the same look on Cooper before he said, “You boys’ll get a proper party when we get home.”

Sam nodded and sensed Monty do the same. Then the guys congratulated them in some way, with a nod or a grin, a good word or a pat on the back. Eight sat in his seat with his arms crossed, continuing to look pissed.

Cooper appeared to be intentionally ignoring Eight’s mood. “Okay,” he said. “We’ve got two things for us all to discuss together. First is where we are with the shitshow that happened last week. Then we’ll lay out the plan for putting Ben to rest.

Zach, who would wear the VP flash for Nevada after Ben was put to rest, cleared his throat. He cast a glance across the table, to Reed. When Reed nodded, Zach told Cooper, “Lyra has some ...” He sighed and started again. “There’s some ... complication, I guess, with Melody.”

“Who’s that?” Eight asked.

“My mom,” Reed answered. “She’s on her way out here. And ... uh ... she’s upset. When my mom’s upset, things tend to get complicated.”

Cooper chuckled quietly. “I remember.”

“No, you don’t,” Reed countered. “You’ve seen her jealous. You haven’t seen her like this. She will make a scene. I can promise you that. She might well try to make trouble.”

“Then she can’t come,” Eight said—and Cooper whipped his head around to glare at him.

“Not your call,” Cooper snarled.

“She’s our mom,” Reed said. “And Pop—” His voice cut out and he stopped. His head dropped. He didn’t try to continue.

Zach picked up for him. “Ben loved her. He never stopped loving her as hard as he ever did. He’d want her here. Reed, Lyra, and I will stay on her, make sure she doesn’t actually cause a problem. We just wanted to give everybody a heads-up.”

“Fair enough,” Cooper said. “We’ll all try to keep things level tomorrow. But let’s set details for the funeral aside. We can give Ben a proper sendoff because we’re safe enough to do it. Volkov came through, but it’ll cost us. Eight, you talked to him. You wanna pick this up?”

Eight leaned forward. “The sheriff is not a problem anymore. He’s announcing his immediate retirement Monday morning. Ted Fulton is taking the badge until the election. Ted’s Niko’s choice, so we can bet when the next election rolls around, it’ll go to him.”

“Ted’s Mojave,” Kai said. “He worked the rez force for almost twenty years before he went to the sheriff’s office. He’ll want his due, but he’ll play nice—and he won’t play Harridan’s fucking games.”

“What, Volkov fixed a two-year problem with one phone call?” Monty asked, grinning. “Shit, we should let him handle all our bullshit.”

“No, Monty,” Maverick said. “We don’t want that.”

“Niko wants his due, too,” Eight said. “And he fuckin’ charges.”

“What’s the fee on this?” Jay asked.

“He wants the Bulls in California in the new year,” Maverick said. “He didn’t give a hard deadline yet, but he wants us moving on the Nameless and patching them over before 2024 is out of its diaper.”

An obvious tension went around the table at that, but Sam didn’t understand why that was a bad thing. The club had been working on a patch-over in Eureka, California for at least as long as he’d been a prospect. He didn’t know details, but he’d heard enough to know about the plan. So Volkov wanted something that was already in the works? How was that a heavy price?

“The Nameless balked, though,” Fitz said, answering the question Sam hadn’t asked aloud. “They voted against it. We’re starting over.”

“No, we’re not,” Maverick said quietly.

Eight sighed. “The vote was close to fifty-fifty, and their bylaws only require a majority for any vote. They only need to move a couple noes to the other column. So right now, we’re gonna push for a fresh vote and give ‘em a little time to get it to go the right way.”

“If they don’t?” Chris asked.

“Then we take them by force,” Eight answered.

“That’s not a good patch-over,” Lonnie, Nevada’s new Sergeant at Arms, pointed out. “How’re we gonna trust men we forced a patch on?”

“We’re not forcing a patch on anybody, Lon,” Cooper told his man.

“I’m sorry,” Sam said. “I know I’m gonna sound like an asshole who doesn’t deserve to sit here, but I’m very confused.”

His father gave him a paternal smile. “It’s okay, son. This is a snarled mess, and it’s changed so much and had so much bullshit in it, hardly anybody can keep it straight.”

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